Nighthawks

Nighthawks

Linnet looked down her whisky glass; she closed her eyes, those deep and weary eyes, as she drank. The bartender smiled at her and Linnet couldn’t understand if that was the smile of someone who had pity on her, a young woman of an unusual beauty who was being destroyed by the alcohol she kept snarfing and her obsessing thoughts, or if he was just joyful.

“Another one, please”, she said as she handed out her now empty glass.

Linnet had her head in her hands and was just about to fall asleep, when a young and handsome man entered the diner. He was wearing a nice fedora and an elegant suit, which made him look like someone who ran a business; he, whose name was Finley, went next to Linnet and sat on the chair closest to hers.

She, on the other hand, didn’t even look at him, and only turned her head when he took her glass away and, instead, put his hand in hers. She faked a smile and went back again to her whisky glass.

“I missed you.”

“No, you didn’t. You just missed the idea of me being under your power.”

“I love you.”

She distanced her glass and a tired and false smile appeared on her lips. Then she drank the last sip, laid that whisky glass on the counter and went to the door. Finley stood up and looked at her on the doorstep. Linnet turned her face and whispered, in a charismatic but, still, emotionless way: “I love you too”. She walked out the building and Finley lost her again in the dark night that the city of New York had wrapped around them.